


Patient

by silentdescant



Series: Promptember [29]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Obedience, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, SePTXCC17, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 05:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Scott's away for the weekend.





	Patient

Mitch is out on the patio with his laptop balanced on his bare thighs, scrolling idly through Spotify’s mood playlists and enjoying the cool night air. It’s finally chilly at night, cold enough to wear a sweatshirt, and the moon is a velvety orange-red, spookily huge and hanging low in the sky, and it’s starting to feel like autumn at last. Mitch is ready for Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and all the parties and meals and celebrations that come with those holidays.

His computer chimes, interrupting the music with the FaceTime ringtone, and Scott’s name pops up. Mitch clicks the notification and launches the video chat. Scott appears, taking up the whole screen. He’s leaning close to his phone.

“You’re home,” he says.

Mitch grins. “Checking up on me?”

The camera shifts as Scott shrugs, and then settles again as Scott leans back. It looks like he’s in bed at home. It’s late there, even later than here. The rest of the family must be asleep.

“Maybe,” Scott replies, in a way that means he definitely is.

Mitch chooses to find this cute rather than smothering. He rolls his eyes indulgently and pouts as another thought occurs to him. “You left without saying goodbye.”

“Is that right?” Scott asks. His grin turns into a smirk. “Ask for what you want, Mitchy.”

Groaning, Mitch says, “You left without getting me off.”

Scott tuts with fake sympathy. “I did, didn’t I? You know the rules. Ask for what you want.”

A coil of arousal unwinds in Mitch’s stomach, slowly spreading its tendrils through his limbs. He gets through the question in a rush: “Can I jerk off?”

Scott, sounding like every elementary school teacher on the planet, says, “I don’t know, can you?”

Mitch breathes through the flash of annoyance, even as his cheeks flush. Humiliation spreads throughout his body faster than arousal and no less potent. He chews on his lower lip. _Ask for what you want_ rings in his ears.

“May I touch myself?” he asks in a low, strangled voice.

Scott smiles again, slow and satisfied. It takes him a long moment to answer. “You may touch yourself.”

Relief sends tingles of excitement to Mitch’s fingertips. He twists his hips as his cock begins to harden. Suddenly, the realization of what Scott said lands like a lead weight in his belly. Strangely, it makes Mitch harden even more. His breath catches.

Scott’s staring at him. His eyes are dark with arousal and he’s holding the phone closer to his face again. He’s _smug_ , the asshole. Mitch exhales sharply and sucks in another deep breath, but he can’t form the words he needs.

“Ask for what you want, Mitchell,” Scott tells him, his voice gentle but firm.

Mitch’s cheeks are flaming hot but a shiver races through the rest of his body. He blames it on the cold air. He asks, quickly, “May I come?”

“You’re not allowed to come without me there,” Scott replies, shaking his head. “You know the rules.”

“That’s not fair,” Mitch whines. “You _left_.”

“You could’ve come with me.”

He could have. But Scott could’ve at least given him a goodbye fuck before he boarded a fucking plane. Mitch shrugs his shoulders, bunching up the hoodie around his neck. He shoves one hand in the front pocket and presses his wrist down on the hard length of his cock. It’s not fair for Scott to leave him like this.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” Scott asks gently.

Mitch worries his lower lip again, dithering some more. His cock is aching and his arousal won’t lessen no matter how much he tells himself he hates being teased like this.

Scott licks his lips and gives Mitch a soft smile. His voice is equally soft when he says, “I want you to.”

“Okay,” Mitch breathes, because really, all it takes is Scott asking.

“Show me,” Scott says.

“Okay,” Mitch says again. “Hold on.”

He takes his computer inside and slides the door closed. He can hear Scott rustling around on his bed in Texas as Mitch sets the laptop in the middle of his own bed here at home. He angles the screen so Scott can watch him take off the sweatshirt and his underwear, because even though Mitch isn’t great at the art of the strip-tease, he knows Scott likes watching him get naked.

He climbs onto the bed on his knees in front of his computer, tilting the screen so his cock is front and center. He has to hunch over to keep his face in frame. He doesn’t wait for further instructions from Scott before he wraps his hand around his cock and begins stroking.

“How was the flight?” he asks, a little breathless.

“It was fine,” Scott replies. “Easy.”

“Did you plan this?”

Scott chuckles. “Not really. I’m just that lucky, I guess. Harder now.”

Mitch squeezes his fist and jerks himself harder. He needs Scott to keep talking, to distract him, make him last longer.

“Are you wet, Mitchy?”

“Ah, fuck,” Mitch groans. He is. He swipes his palm over the head of his cock and shows the camera how the precome glistens on his skin.

“Are you desperate yet?” Scott asks. “Are you close?”

“Getting there.”

“Such a slut, aren’t you, baby. Had fun with all your little friends and then came running to me for your reward.”

Mitch doesn’t remind him that he called Mitch, not the other way around. It doesn’t matter. Scott’s right. He’s been waiting for this, craving the prize Scott usually grants him as an incentive to be more social. His thighs are shaking with need and he squeezes his cock again as if wringing an orgasm from it.

“Stop.”

Mitch lets go automatically, flinging his hands to the side and leaning back, his chest heaving. “Please,” Mitch gasps. Autopilot has overridden the humiliation of begging. He needs to come.

“You know the rules.”

“Please, Scotty, please, I miss you,” Mitch whines.

“You miss orgasms.”

Mitch grumbles loudly in frustration and bites back a few nasty insults. Scott’s not wrong. “Yeah,” he growls. His cock is throbbing, dripping precome against his belly. He twists his hips, making his cock sway and slide, and sucks in his stomach so it won’t touch. It feels like any amount of friction will make him come.

“Touch yourself again,” Scott says, his voice quiet and dangerous.

“Please, no.”

“One more time, Mitchy,” he says firmly. “Be good for me one more time and then I’ll let you sleep.”

Mitch fake-sobs to demonstrate his frustration and it feels so close to a real sob. His eyes are actually watering. “God, you’re fucking evil,” he hisses.

“Take your cock in your hand, Mitchell,” Scott commands. Mitch reaches for his cock because obeying that tone of voice is ingrained in his soul. “Wrap your fingers around yourself and squeeze. Tight. Stroke yourself, Mitchy. I want to watch you.”

His entire body feels strung as tight as a piano wire. He grips his cock and strokes himself, slowly because it’s all he can manage, and within moments, he’s on the verge of coming again. Mitch pushes himself to the brink because he knows it’s what Scott wants to see.

“Stop,” Scott says.

Mitch slaps his hands down on the bed beside his thighs and tilts his head back, panting up at the ceiling. He can’t look at Scott right now. He can’t see that hungry expression, the needy arousal in Scott’s eyes. Mitch wants to come so badly, he’s pretty sure he could _think_ himself over the edge. And fuck, wouldn’t that be a sight. Scott probably wouldn’t even blame him for it.

He flexes his thighs and heaves in a deep, shuddering breath. “Please,” he whispers. “Please, let me come. I’m so close, _please_.”

“No.”

“ _Please_ , Scott, I’m begging you, please…”

“It’s okay, baby, look at me. C’mon, Mitchy. Look at me now,” Scott coaxes. “You’re doin’ so good, babe. You’re so fucking obedient, so beautiful for me, baby. Just look at me now and breathe. You’re fine. You’re okay now. Just relax, baby. Breathe for a minute, okay?”

Mitch hisses through his teeth and lets out a long breath. “Distract me?”

“You look fucking beautiful like this. All sweaty and shaking and desperate. I wish I could touch you. I wanna feel you trembling.”

Mitch's cock pulses with need, dripping a fresh spurt of precome onto his taut stomach.

“I hate you,” Mitch groans venomously.

“Don’t be a brat.” The reprimand is gentle but a reprimand nonetheless, and Mitch winces, appropriately contrite. Scott nods at him. “I’m only gone for a couple days. Be patient.”

 _…and you’ll get your reward_ is the end of that sentence and Scott doesn’t need to vocalize it for his meaning to be clear. Scott always rewards him for good behavior. 

Mitch spends another few minutes breathing through the unsatisfying end to this session. Scott’s given up teasing him, thankfully, and tells Mitch about his flight, his late-night Whataburger dinner, the way his rented car smells. Then he says again, “I’ll be home in a few days.”

“I miss you,” Mitch sighs. “Not just the orgasms.”

“I know,” Scott replies. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Love you, Mitchy.”

“Love you too. Goodnight.” Mitch blows a kiss at his laptop and Scott does the same to his phone.

“’Night, babe.”

The call disconnects and Mitch lets himself fall backward against the pile of pillows at his headboard. He feels damp all over with sweat and preoccupied by his sexual frustration, but it’ll be worth it to wait. Scott never asks more of Mitch than he can handle, and it’s always, always worth it.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
